


Our October Traditions

by argylemikewheeler



Category: The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt
Genre: But still make it sweet and childlike, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, M/M, Pining, Romantic Face Punching, Vegas Era Debauchery, i mean.... that's literally a tag so i'll use it, that are complementary don't worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 21:30:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21143525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argylemikewheeler/pseuds/argylemikewheeler
Summary: Theo helps Boris celebrate his own first Fully American Halloween(idea originally from @zombiebowlcut on tumblr)





	Our October Traditions

**i.**

Theo heaved two very large, but equally misshapen pumpkins onto the kitchen counter. Boris was staring at the newspaper-- upside, mind you-- and didn’t even notice Theo until he nearly placed a large gourd in his lap.

The newspaper folded down almost_ perfectly._ “What is that?”

“It’s a pumpkin, shithead. We’re going to start decorating for Halloween.”

“What?” Boris furrowed his eyebrows and acted like Theo was speaking in tongues. They hadn’t even started drinking that afternoon; Theo made sure of it. It seemed a bit dangerous if either of them were under any sort of influence. “Decorating?”

“Yeah! I’m going to teach you how to carve a pumpkin.”

“...What?”

Theo ignored Boris’s confusion. “Okay so first, lay out the newspaper on the table while I get a knife or something.” Theo pointed loosely with his hand as he started pulling out kitchen drawers. He pretended he didn’t see the strangely filled sandwich bags and looked only for any useful utensils.

“Knife? To cut?” Boris said, stepping down from the chair. He dug in his pocket before snapping a switch blade out of his dark jeans. If Theo wasn’t looking, he would have mistaken it for his snapping wrist.

“_Jesus, _Boris. Since when in the fuck did you start carrying that around?”

“Um, got knife... from someone sleeping in my house.” Boris shrugged, turning it in his hand. It was slightly comforting to see the handle sitting somewhat uncomfortably in the palm of Boris’s hand. Of all the things he’d held, it was nice to see a weapon fit the worst.

“...Okay... I’m not gonna touch on that one. Just, um, make sure it’s, uh, clean and then pick your pumpkin.”

Boris flipped the blade in his hand, shrugging at it. Theo began unfolded the newspaper and spreading it over the counter island. He nodded toward Boris, who was still staring at the two pumpkins with indifferent disgust. At Theo’s instruction, again, he suddenly slapped his hand out onto the larger of the two.

“This one.” He said, almost proudly. “Is mine.”

“Do you have any ideas?” Theo had been a fan of the most simple triangular features for his jack-o-lanterns. His mother had always been the one with the artistic hand and the more inventive ideas. She made a bat one year, parts of the cutout left remaining to show the bones and structure of the wings. Theo tried to keep it up well into November, he’d loved it so much.

“Ideas about what, Potter? Have no idea what we are doing. Bring in strange fruits and ask me to pick, then to _cut_, then to-- ideas, Potter? Have one idea. You have lost mind. Desert has done lot to you. _Je_-sus.”

“You have to carve something _into_ it, Jackass. You don’t just cut shit out. It’s decoration, not the ER left-overs of a bar fight.”

Boris smirked at him. “What do you know about bar fight? Would never do such a thing.”

“I’ll deck you right now, fuck off.” Theo shoved Boris harshly, forgetting for a moment he had a knife in his hands. Luckily, it clattered onto the table; Boris dropping it the moment Theo stepped up to him. He was more aware of the danger than Theo was. “Think of a face or something to cut out. It’s whatever you want.”

Boris mulled the concept over with surprising thought. He turned his head side to side, flopping his hair back and forth. It was in a matted clump from sleeping in Theo’s bed earlier-- really only getting up a few hours before. His lips pursed before he smacked them and clapped his hands deafeningly loud. It shook Theo enough to remind him to stop staring before Boris turned back to him.

“Have it. Can see it.” Boris reached for the knife.

“Wait! Hold on! You have to carve the top part out first. It’s the lid and how you get all the insides out.”

“Huh?”

“Cut around the stem so you can lift it up and out. Like a lid-- you’re supposed to put candles in jack-o-lanterns. And you can’t _do_ that if it’s got all its guts inside.”

Theo thought he’d confused Boris more. But without much preamble, Boris bought the knife down into the top of the pumpkin. Both of his hands gripped the handle of the blade; it was still an uncomfortable object to wield. Thank God.

He practically hung over the pumpkin, trying to get his entire arm into it. Theo felt like he was watching a surgeon discover his love for anatomy.

“_Ha!_ Is like putting hand inside someone.” Boris laughed, his elbow flexing as he moved his arm around. Theo could hear the pumpkin squishing in Boris’s hands, right between his fingers.

“Uck! Boris, that’s gross.”

“Do not mean_ intestines_, Potter.” Boris said wryly, lifting his hand up and rolling his fingers around in the orange, stringy mess.

“EW! That’s fucking _gross_. That can _not_ be what-- Ew. No. That’s gross. Fuck off.” Theo wanted to gag but didn’t want to look weak; able to handle insurmountable amounts of drugs but not looking at the inside of a pumpkin. Or hearing a possible comparison to some kind of sexual act. No, Theo couldn’t gag at _that_. Now how would _that_ look.

It was in Theo’s best interest to let the topic go. To act like he and Boris weren’t familiar with what they were dancing around. No, it was better to grab the knife and just keep cutting.

**ii.**

Boris's pumpkin, in all honesty, looked better than Theo's. It was carved blindly and with half-committed Russian words that half-complimented, half-insulted the face. The eyes were round and wonky, trying to have pupils, but the concept of not completing a cut in order to keep some of the piece hanging in the empty space eluded them both. By the end, the pumpkin had eyes that were wide-open and startled. Unblinking. Refusing to give them any privacy, it seemed.

Theo stood a step farther away from Boris as they admired their work, but he wasn’t sure why. It was just a pumpkin. It was just them.

“I’ll grab some candles when we go out-- we can light them when it gets darker.” Theo said.

“Going where?”

“To the supermarket. We have to get candy.”

“Oh. Okay.” Boris seemed to have an argument, or at least a question, but there was an unfamiliar timidness in his acceptance. He put his hands in his pockets, as if keeping his rebuttal to himself.

“Typically, you don’t get your own candy.” Theo reassured Boris’s presumed knowledge. “We just have no houses for trick-or-treating. So we’re improvising.”

“Plan to do what? Ask for candy at supermarket?”

“No.” Theo laughed. He quickly tried to disguise his mockery of Boris’s naive and honest question. It was finally something Boris had very few and far between ideas about; Theo had to remember these weren’t traditions to Boris, _yet_. They were still all first iterations, first experiences-- all with Theo. “We’re going to steal some candy. I’ll grab you some, you grab me some. Then we’ll trade whatever we don’t want.”

It wasn’t a gift or favor if it didn’t cost either of them anything. Then again, love never cost _anyone_ anything--

"Trick-or-treat.” Boris repeated, the concept emerging from his own embodiment of the word. “That is-- _knock_, yes? And the-- word.. ack, what is word, Potter? Over body. Um... Dis-guys?”

“Costume.” Theo blinked and snapped back to Boris’s face. It was no longer soft or amused-- furrowed in his confusion. “You aren’t _really_ hiding from anyone. You don’t need a disguise. Just a costume.”

“Oh. Okay.” Boris held his arms up, looking at his sweater sleeves. “What is costume?”

They didn’t really have the means to be much of anything except maybe different variations of the same hungry children, but Theo quickly tried to come up with something. Boris couldn’t just be _the kid who couldn’t afford a costume_. "You can be Dracula!” Theo motioned to Boris’s conveniently monochromatic outfit. “That’s perfect! You’re... brooding enough.”

“And teeth!” Boris bared his crooked teeth, nearly perfectly angled for fangs. Almost close enough to bite too--

“You’ll terrorize everyone at the store.”

“Yes, can do that. But who are you?” Boris asked, lifting a weak hand toward Theo. He was in his old, far-rattier, sweater and a pair of slacks from his previous school. “Cannot be scary, Potter.”

"Uh-- hey!” Theo said, pursing his lips. He quickly changed to clenching his jaw; Xandra always pursed her lips or popped her hip. Theo stopped doing both to look more physically upset with Boris.

“You look like... Liberian!”

“... A librarian?” Theo said slowly, trying not to laugh. “Well thanks. I guess, then I can just be... I don’t know. Van Helsing, maybe?” _Then we’d match, and we’d belong together in public_. “Oh, but then we’d match-- I don’t know if that’s--”

“A victim!” Boris cheered, throwing his arms up and charging at Theo.

For a moment, Theo allowed himself to laugh. He ducked his head to the side-- all but fucking _giggling_ like some little girl-- and letting Boris drop his arms on top of his shoulders. His arms were long and there was still distance. It was strange-- and it was suspicious from the outside, sure-- but it was still safe.

In another moment, one coming way too quickly, Theo felt his stomach try to rise up to his throat. Boris’s one hand braced the side of his neck, while the other looped under his arm and gripped his shoulder. His grip pulled on his clothes, tight but not as frantic as it had been before-- just the night before. The collar of Theo’s sweater moved away, a stitch quietly popping under Boris’s fingers. It made space for Boris’s teeth-- _lips_\-- trying to find their spot on the side of Theo’s neck.

“What the fuck, man. Get off of me!” Theo cried, shoving Boris’s back harshly. He stumbled back but his hands were still on Theo. And he still wanted them to be. “Don’t fucking touch me like that.”

Theo wasn’t sure if he’d intended to slap or punch Boris. Either way, his hand made sharp and heavy contact with Boris’s mouth, his head snapping to the side as he staggered back. Theo readjusted his sweater in the immediate aftermath, his hands trying to echo where Boris’s had been, if only to relish the contact for a moment of imagination.

Boris stood, hunched over, cupping his mouth. “Fucking got me, Potter.” His hand fell away and he was smiling. His lip had split and blood was pooling around the curves of his bottom lip. Boris’s fingers played with the large droplet of sticky crimson guilt. “Ha! Look! Blood, Potter!”

“I-- yeah.” Theo knew better than to say the other forbidden word: _sorry_.

“Vampire! AH!”

“Yeah. Full vampire.”

Theo wondered, selfishly and disgustingly, what Boris’s teeth would have felt like playfully puncturing his neck and not his knuckles. The forbidden chance had been dangled in front of Theo, temptation grabbing him with a tight grip, and he blew it. Curiosity would be the most promising nightmare.

“Let’s go get some candy, before all the good stuff is gone.”

**iii.**

Theo scoured the aisle for mixed bags of _snappable_ candy. Boris didn’t like the candy with sticky, chewy, stringy insides. No caramel, nougat, or that chewy coconut shit either. He liked candy that snapped when he bit down. It was something stupid and primal, Theo was sure, but the short, staccato laugh Boris let out when the snack would _snap_ between his front top and bottom teeth was unforgettable-- and that night, _desired_.

If Theo could get Boris to laugh, to find small, infantile joy eating stolen last minute, sale candy, he’d gotten everything he wanted.

There was a bag of Crunch bars, KitKats, 100 Grand bars, Twix, and Snickers sitting along the sparse bags of sugary, hard candy. Theo grabbed it and tucked it into the inside of his father’s borrow coat. It barely looked like Theo had taken anything-- in fact it made the waistline of the coat fit better. He still had some sleeves to fill.

Theo spotted Boris weaving around the seasonal endcap of the aisle, studying the ways all the familiar candy wrappers were now orange or covered in bats. He pretended to study the nutrition label on the back of a bag as a mother and child walked behind him. The child tried to point at Boris’s split and still-bleeding lip, but the mother paid no attention to Boris. Just like he had no intention of paying for that candy.

Theo left Boris to his operation and wandered down to the oral hygiene aisle. He strolled, with almost adult-like authority, along the rows of expensive electronic toothbrushes until he reached the plastic covered ones that hung on the wall like packaged pens. Theo grabbed a blue one-- with soft bristles, because _someone_ had sensitive enamel from years of eating _straight_ sugar and not gargling after vomiting-- and slipped it up his sleeve.

He sighed, pretending he hadn’t found what he was looking for, and started to head out toward the parking lot again to wait for Boris. Just as he tried to exit the aisle, a worker came around with an arm full of plastic pumpkin baskets. Theo skidded to a halt-- clutching his jacket and the candy-- in lightning fast response.

“Sorry.” Theo said, stepping aside quickly. The worker was frazzled, barely noticing that Theo had even stopped him. The baskets wobbled in his arms, their faces printed just off-center to the indentations of the “carved” features. They were ugly and obviously all defects. “Hey, can I have one of those?”

“What? They’re all going in the trash. They’re garbage and it’s _literally_ Halloween.” The teenager spoke as if Theo had been born on a different planet, unaware of the time, day, and possibly the year.

“Yeah. I know. Then let me have one.” Theo thrust his hand out. “Fucking give me one. It’s important.”

“Okay, here you go. Asshole.” The worker handed it to Theo, but not before ripping the tag off the handle. “Go loiter somewhere else. We’re closing in a half hour, too. Is that your friend? The one who looks like a corpse.”

“He’s a _vampire_.”

“He looks like he’s fucking dead.” The man correctly, hitching his armful up. “And he’s been reading that bag label for five minutes. Is he simple or something?”

“English isn’t his second language, cut him some slack.” Theo scoffed. “Asshole.”

“Well, whatever he speaks, tell him we’re closing and to either buy the candy or leave.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Theo said, smiling. “I’ll be sure to do that.”‘

While the teenager turned away, Theo grabbed a tube of toothpaste, floss, and one of the travel head covers. He barely tried to hide them as he marched for the door.

There was something careful in how Boris was searching, Theo didn’t want to disturb him. Part of him said it was because he wanted to let Boris have his own shopping time uninterrupted or rushed. But the larger part of Theo was secretly pleased that he was choosing candy meant for _him_ with such purpose and care. 

It meant nothing, probably, but Theo let it mean everything as he stood out at their meetup spot. As he waited, he practiced smiling without looking too happy.

**iv.**

“Here. For your candy.” Theo held the plastic pumpkin out to Boris. His hand felt like it wanted to be shaking, but it was too afraid to even do that.

Boris took it carefully, studying its off-brand features. “Is for _my_ candy? That you give me?”

“Yeah! But, you’ve got to ask me for it first.” Theo said. He used his teeth to rip open the bag, tossing the end into the dumpster.

“Have candy, Potter?”

“No! Trick-or-Treat! You’ve got to ask-- just hold your basket out and ask ‘_trick-or-treat’_! And then I’ll say some super weird passively-adult thing about your costume and then give you your candy. Okay. Now go.”

Boris jerked his basket forward, teeth bared and dried blood now brown. “Trick! Or treat, Potter!”

“Oh wow! Look at your fangs... Not even fake.”

“Fuck off! Teeth are fine-- chew just fine.”

“You can’t tell a suburban mom to fuck off.” Theo laughed, tilting the bag into Boris’s basket. It overflowed and the stiff candy clattered on the asphalt. “They’ll call neighborhood watch on you.”

“Fuck if I care.” Boris held the basket to his chest, crossing his arms over it. He held delightful ownership over the new holiday clutch and seasonal candy. They’d created their own tradition, own triumphing memory, standing by the dumpster of Lucky’s. It wasn’t perfect and it _wasn’t_ exactly the quintessential American Halloween, but it was one Boris could recount without sounding like he’d copied some made-for-tv movie; it was lop-sided and little fucked up-- _just_ enough-- to truly be Boris’s first Halloween.

Actually, all the perfect Halloweens Theo had ever had seemed fruitless compared to watching Boris cradle his first trick-or-treated haul of candy. Getting things right the first time was stupidly overrated.

Theo felt the urge to jot that down. To remember to tell his mother-- next time he saw her-- how great Halloween had the potential to be if the mischief and wickedness were lent the chance to match costumes with joy and innocence.

**v.**

Boris accosted the entire living room floor as he dumped his basket out onto the carpet. He spread it out so no two pieces of candy were resting on top of each other. His hands ran over the crinkling wrappers, feeling the even square molds-- until he stopped and firmly gripped the toothbrush. He held it up to Theo with an accusatory look.

“Are trying to tell me something?” He asked.

“No, no. It’s not like that. Most of the time, there’s this family of doctors or something that always give out healthy food or non-candy for Halloween. I decided the family you ran into would’ve been a dentists. So I gave you a toothbrush.” Theo shrugged. “You wanted the full experience.”

Theo also wasn’t sure if Boris even had a toothbrush. He’d seen him with one, when they first met, bristles flattened and parted from over-extended use. He said nothing further-- not about the old toothbrush, or about how Boris placed it gingerly by his side just then, tucked just under his knee for safe keeping.

“Stupid dentists. Of all doctor career-- all part of body to think about, all day all the time-- who pick teeth? It is bone. Weird bone to talk with! Who want to see _bone_ all day, and fix and grind and drill? Seem so stupid when think about it.” Boris exclaimed, still running his hands over the candy. “Will not go to dentist house again. Have learned lesson, Potter. Fuck the doctor houses.”

Theo laughed and moved closer to Boris-- just to be able to pour his own candy out for trading. “Okay, what do you want out of my pile-- I’ll take all your snickers.”

Theo’s bag was full of most of the same candy, but also small Hershey bars and Baby Ruths instead of 100 Grands. It was the principle of trading more than it was either of them getting more of what they wanted. Confectionery bargaining was a skill few had back in New York. Only Andy was ever really good at it.

“What is in Baby Ruth?” Boris asked, turning over some of Theo’s silver-wrapped pieces. “Is that woman?”

“Baseball player, actually. Like Babe Ruth.” Theo said, quickly pealing one of them open. “Here, try one. It’s mostly nougat I think.”

“Uck.” Boris muttered, still taking it. He popped the whole thing in his mouth, his cheek bulging as he tried to chew it quickly. It was too sticky, but Boris didn’t seem to mind. “Gross.”

“Careful. Your fangs.”

“Ah!” Boris bared his teeth again, holding his arms up as if he had a cape to shield him. “Will eat your blood!

“It’s uh,” Theo nearly gargled the word, struggling to say it cleanly. “it’s _suck_ your blood, Boris.”

“Yes. That too.” He chopped his teeth loudly, the candy gone. Theo recoiled and clutched his own jaw. Boris did it twice more, breaking into a grin the more Theo looked disgusted. “Am bothering you! Halloween spirit, yes?”

“Sure. Something like that.” Theo picked up a Crunch bar and tossed it at Boris’s head. It caught momentarily in his matted curls before slipping through and onto his legs.

“Oh? Candy fight?” Boris grabbed a fistful of chocolates. His long fingers and tight grip snapped many of the bars in half, the sound heard underneath the crinkling plastic. “Tradition too?”

Theo paused, his arms no where near his face in defense. He grinned, only clenching his eyes closed. “Yeah. It’s definitely tradition. For us, at least.”

“Can be tradition that you lose?” Boris cackled, throwing both handfuls directly at Theo’s chest. “Do not think will change. Am always good shot, Potter.”

“Oh, fuck _off. _Arrogance is _not_ about to become any part of this holiday, Boris. I swear to God--” Theo was pelted with every candy brand on the floor individually. Boris had a pile at his feet he tossed at him one by one, squirming backward slowly as Theo dodged them and shifted onto his knees.

“No! No! No! Cannot touch Dracula!” Boris cried, fully falling onto his back. He wiggled back and forth like a snake but gained no distance away from Theo.

There was something about a snake Theo read in a book once. Temptation, or something, right? Wasn’t that how the story went? That snake, that woman, and that apple-- but that one wasn’t candied.

Theo flopped down on Boris with all his weight, laughing at the loud _oof!_ Boris wheezed out. His arms grabbed onto Theo’s back, but he didn’t push him away. Instead, his hands pressed Theo closer and rolled them over. The candy slid and squashed under them, like a really strange bed of orange and red foliage. With Theo on his back, Boris sat up with his legs on either side of Theo’s waist. Theo was pinned, eyes wide and mouth open, but not in any rejection. The temptation looked sweet.

“I bite!” Boris cried, placing his hands on Theo’s chest and shoulder. “Suck blood from you, Potter.”

And he did. He pushed Theo’s head to the side and playfully (and with surprising delicacy) bit down on the curve of his neck. It was weird, really _really_ weird, but it was still touch. Undefinable touch, at that. It wasn’t anything romantic and definitely wasn’t anything sexual. It was just _playing vampire_. There were no rules or sermons against that. Theo allowed himself to laugh, shivering at the cold drag of Boris’s teeth across his skin.

It was _so _weird, but Theo felt so free. He’d never felt the touch of anyone be so warm and his entire world seem so far off. It wasn’t even tradition at that point; it was habit. Boris would always be the one that made Theo feel like every frayed nerve was neatly sewn back together. Like every moment was worth remembering and recording, all in the hopes of recreating it someday. Same crooked smiles, same <strike>laughter</strike> giggles, same mishaps, same boy. Always the same boy.

**Author's Note:**

> also found [here](https://weltonreject.tumblr.com/post/188521037471/our-october-traditions) on my tgf/lit blog


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